


Fledgling

by Lapinou



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Guard Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Porn with Feelings, lance is a king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24576652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapinou/pseuds/Lapinou
Summary: [ “Shiro,” Lance says, his voice soft and warm in a way Shiro was worried he’d never hear again.“Did I keep you waiting?”“Not at all,” Lance replies and his smile returns when he adds, “never have.”  ]His Majesty the King was a Prince not but a month ago, a bright boy of only 20 years, not far from Shiro’s own 25. Shiro had begun work as a palace guard young, at only 15, and met the prince that very same year. Perhaps it was because of the similarity in age that the two had developed a close friendship over the years of Shiro’s service.Only he never expected it to grow into something even bigger.
Relationships: Lance/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 112





	Fledgling

“Shirogane, you are requested in the gardens,” the commander of the guards calls from the other side of Shiro’s chamber door. Shiro sits up to attention immediately from where he had been lounging on his cot, enjoying a book during what he thought was an evening off.

“Am I being given patrol?” he asks.

“No, you were summoned by his Majesty himself,” the commander informs and then raps twice on the door with the back of a heavy hand. “So be quick about it.”

Shiro’s eyes widen.

“Yes, sir!” he yells back.

His Majesty the King was a Prince not but a month ago, a bright boy of only 20 years, not far from Shiro’s own 25. Shiro had begun work as a palace guard young, at only 15, and met the prince that very same year. Perhaps then it was because of the similarity in age that they had developed a close friendship over the years of Shiro’s service. The Prince had always insisted on Shiro calling him by his given name, Lance, and after asking Shiro to break plenty of other rules he’d been trained never to bend, it finally came to seem inconsequential.

One could say that his majesty enjoyed talking, and it would be an understatement. Over the years, Shiro spent a substantial amount of time on guard doing nothing but listening to the prince’s tales of the day. He’d speak of palace gossip, of his victories in combat training, even court dealings of which should only be discussed amongst members of the royal council. But it wasn’t as though Shiro would tell a soul. He simply liked to listen, to offer input on occasion, but mostly to divulge the talking to Lance.

He never could understand why the Prince chose to confide in him. It wasn’t as though Lance lacked a royal advisor, the opposite in fact, he had several, so why was he, a palace guard, graced with such a close relation?

Shiro never asked, but he was always grateful for it.

And he was missed it dearly.

The passing of the King left a heavy toll on the entire kingdom, but none greater than on his eldest son and the heir to the throne. There was hardly time to grieve before the kingdom needed the guidance of their new leader, and preparations were made for a coronation.

Shiro had only seen Lance once in passing since then, enough to give his condolences to the newly crowned King. He barely recognized him without the light of a beaming personality shining in his magnificent blue eyes. The days of stories and gossip, of secret excursions beyond the palace walls and into the kitchens at night were no longer, and Shiro found himself mourning more than just the late King.

He leaves his chambers in a rush, faster than if he’d been called for a breach of defense, tugging the belt of his sword sloppily into place as he ran.

He’s nearly out of breath when he finds him leaning against a pillar on the garden walkway, staring over at the magnificent lion sculpture in the center of the courtyard. There’s a faraway look in his eyes as Shiro approaches, and he notices with concern, that for the first time since the coronation, there are no guards watching him. None but Shiro. 

“Your highness,” Shiro projects his voice as he crosses the courtyard.

The king looks up from his thoughts, and a familiar smile settles across his face. It warms Shiro to the core. Perhaps a part of him had been worried that he’d never see the sight of it again, but it greets him the same as ever, if only slightly masked by a feeling of melancholy. Shiro returns it as he comes to stand before him. Part of him has half a mind to embrace the king, to pull him in as the friend he has not seen in too long a time, and one who has endured a great sorrow, but he refrains. The king moves instead, and places a hand on the top of Shiro’s armored chest in greeting.

“Shiro,” he says, his voice soft and warm in a way Shiro was worried he’d never hear again. 

“Did I keep you waiting?” 

“Not at all,” Lance replies and his smile returns when he adds, “never have.”

“I’m glad.”

Lance’s hand falls back to his side and he turns away from Shiro, his body language suddenly cold while an unfamiliar silence settles between them. Shiro lets it persist, nervous but waiting for the king to continue at his leisure.

“Will you stop calling me by my name then, now that I’m king?” he asks to the wind.

Shiro had asked himself the same thing countless times since the acquisition of Lance’s new title. He’d been worried that perhaps the elevation in Lance’s status would widen the gap between them too much to justify referring to him so informally, but he finds his answer easily from the defeated tone of Lance’s voice.

“Only if you should prefer it,” he replies.

“I do not.”

“Then I will not.”

There’s another pause.

It’s odd to stand beside Lance in so much silence, unnerving even when it’s so unlike him to be quietly introspective. Shiro has no doubt that his friend’s mind is heavily burdened by any number of things, but still… he wonders about the gravity of whatever it is that has the king so uncharacteristically hung up. Left to wander, his thoughts jump around to all sorts of possible outcomes, and worst among them, is the possibility that Lance is about to tell him they can’t keep meeting like this anymore.

He wants to suggest it, to tell Lance that he understands before he’s even said it, but he can’t find the words. Or any words for that matter. His heart just pounds in his chest, as he waits. Patiently. Anxiously. And then. 

“I hear people talking about me,” Lance starts and Shiro thanks the stars. “Everyone in the palace, from the servants to the council men, they all talk about me when they think I won’t hear. They’ve always done it, really, but they never spoke ill of me when I was a prince. Back then I was the kingdom’s shining gem, a real-life Prince Charming, but now… because of all of those things they used to love about me… they say they can’t see me fit to rule.” 

The evening air of Summer is comfortable around them, a gentle breeze blowing on occasion, pushing Shiro’s bangs from his face, but he moves not an inch to put them in place. He wants to deny that which Lance is saying, but he can’t pretend that he hasn’t heard whispers of such things himself.

“They call me the ‘young king’ behind my back,” Lance explains, “they think I am immature, a fledgling, that my father should have opted to place a third party in charge until I was a more proper age to ascend the throne. But my father never wanted that, and I… I don’t know what I wanted but,” he turns to face Shiro now, “what I do not want is to be thought of as a boy.”

  
“You’re not a boy,” Shiro replies firmly, not simply because the moment required it, but because he believes it. Maybe it’s only because of talks like this that Shiro has gotten to know the many facets of Lance’s personality. He may be lighthearted on the surface, but he has a good head on his shoulders, and a heart big enough for every member of this kingdom. He understands people on a level that has always fascinated Shiro, is able to feel their suffering and rejoice in their happiness.

To say that Lance is unfit to be King is to not know him at all.

The features on Lance’s face brighten into a smile at Shiro’s words. 

“Thank you,” he says, “you’ve always taken me seriously.”

“Of course.”

Shiro can feel his heart beat in his chest. Stronger than it normally is, faster, and no longer out of anxiety. He doesn’t know what about this moment has changed, perhaps still out of excitement from reuniting with a dear friend, but as Lance stands just in front of him, regarding the individual bricks of the walkway at their feet with deep thought, something seems different.

“So…” Lance begins and it takes a moment for him to look up at Shiro. “That is why… I am asking you to take me seriously right now.” 

Shiro nods, his heart beating even more erratically.

“Whatever it is, I will, your majesty.”

Lance takes a deep breath in, releases it in a quick burst of air, and stares directly into Shiro’s eyes.

“I want to become a man with you,” he says. His eyebrows knot forward just enough to ensure his expression looks serious, but the color on his face gives his apprehension away. Shiro begins to speak and stutters, unsure if he’s somehow misunderstood the king’s meaning, but unable to think of a viable alternative. He’s been trained to react to countless situations, how to parry all sorts of attacks, how to defend when unarmed, how to outmaneuver an opponent, but never in his life has he received instruction for a moment like this. 

“I… do not want to misunderstand you,” he says and his mouth stays open to continue but his brain cannot produce the words. Lance approaches him, crossing the threshold of casual conversation into a space much more intimate. One that they’ve never been before.

“I don’t think you are,” he says and reaches out to touch Shiro’s arm.

“Lance, I--”

“Is that alright?” he asks, and Shiro can hardly believe he is hearing those words from a king. “Please tell me it is… and that I’m not a child chasing an impossible dream.”

“You’re not a child,” Shiro say. He places a hand over where the king’s still rests on his arm tenderly, reassuringly. “But you need not come to bed with me in order to prove it.”

Lance’s brows furrow.

“I know that, but I think that as a man, I should start to act on my long-standing desires.”

Something exciting spreads low and hot in Shiro’s body upon hearing Lance describe his feelings toward him as desire. He’s not sure he’s ever allowed himself to entertain such a fantasy as finding the king desirable in that way, though it has certainly existed in the periphery of his conscious thought for many years. All at once the idea of touching Lance, of holding him, of undressing him, and knowing him intimately… it overwhelms him. The thought of doing all of those things with a king barely crosses his mind at all, because the person before him is so much more to him than the ruler of a kingdom. He is Shiro’s longest friend, his truest friend, his partner in late-night pastry thievery, a confidant, and… because he can admit it now, someone he finds incredibly beautiful.

He squeezes the king’s hand gently.

“Lance…” he says softly and then brings Lance’s hand up to his mouth to place a kiss upon his knuckles. “I promise to take care of you.”

* * *

Shiro gives a nod to the guards stationed at the door, followed by an awkward clearing of his throat as he waited for Lance to open to the door and guide them inside. He supposed Lance didn’t intend for this to be an entirely secret endeavor, maybe he thought it would help his predicament if there was gossip of the king having a healthy appetite in the bedroom. Either way he forgets about it as soon as he’s inside the now-king’s personal chamber.

Shiro was rarely given shift at the door of the crown prince’s bed chamber, and even then, has never seen a peak of its interior. He always imagined it to be lavish, decorated with gilded adornments and carefully pruned plants, a fireplace at its threshold perhaps and a large, very large bed with more pillows than Shiro had ever dreamed of. And largely, he was right.

He follows Lance to the bed, the tall and grand and incredibly plush bed he’d imagined and sits at its edge upon motion from the king. Lance fits himself just in front of where sits, still looking around the room and taking everything in.

“I told the guards earlier not to disturb me tonight,” Lance explains and Shiro’s attention snaps back to him. “So, we will not be interrupted.”

Shiro is painfully aware of his hands at his sides, and how much he’d rather them elsewhere, but he knows not whether to take the lead or whether to follow. He’s unsure how slow Lance wants to take this, or in what way, though he quickly decides that whichever way the king should like it is how he shall be glad to proceed.

“You have been planning this?” Shiro asks.

“I have, I’ve thought about this quite a lot,” Lance explains. “Only seriously as of recent. The flirtation I became known for when I was younger, they were never real, but… my favorite guard… I always knew one day I’d ask you here.”

“I’m… honored,” Shiro says softly. “To be a subject of your desire.” He places a hand on Lance’s cheek and looks between his eyes. He can’t believe that those beautiful eyes, in all of their brilliance, their vitality, have been looking at him with such high regard for so long. His armor feels much too restricting on him suddenly. He wants to exist before Lance in all of the vulnerability he can give him, to strip away the reminder of who is he supposed to be for this man who has always meant so much more.

“You still haven’t kissed me yet,” Lance reminds him, his voice low.

Yes, that’s right, Shiro can kiss him now.

With the hand still on his cheek, he guides Lance in, and presses their lips gently together. They part with a small sound after a moment, and Shiro looks to Lance as though to ask if he should like another, of which Lance answers by taking his own initiative. Shiro slides his hand back to the short, soft hair at the top of Lance’s neck and holds them together, unbelieving of what he’s doing but unable to deny the velvety, warm mouth he’s feeling upon his own.

They kiss tentatively at first, like they don’t know what they’re doing, and then all of a sudden, they do, and all of a sudden, they are deep in each other’s mouths like they’re making up for lost time.

“Please, take your armor off,” Lance says, and Shiro gets up from the bed to disrobe in a speed that rivals the one with which he can put it all on. Lance watches with eager eyes, drinking in every part of the process, every new reveal of skin. He hopes, as he gets down to the last layer of garment before he will be completely nude in front of a king, that Lance will not be disappointed in what he sees, but given the flash of interest in Lance’s eyes as he stares, it was foolish to be worried.

Shiro’s cock is already hardening when it springs free from his undergarments, and Lance spares no thought for modesty when his eyes come to linger on it. Shiro has half a mind to cover himself out of embarrassment, but he goes in for another kiss instead, too aroused to keep his hands off of Lance for any considerable length of time.

“You too,” he says in a moment of bravado. Lance reaches quickly for the fastenings of his shirt, and Shiro helps him, guides it over his head and then has to steal another kiss before they can move on to his pants. It’s not long before all of their clothing is strewn about the floor, forgotten entirely as they fall into each other’s gravity.

Shiro sits Lance on the bed now, looming over him with a confidence, almost an authority, he wasn’t aware could come over him until Lance was eager to surrender to it. He folds beautifully beneath him, allowing Shiro to easily guide him down until his back falls to the mattress. Shiro stops their kissing to admire the body under him with a hungry gaze, and a parted mouth. There is nothing to hide between them anymore. He can see everything about Lance, every unashamed inch of his body, and Lance can see all of his.

Lance’s form is slight, the muscles of arms, his chest, his abdomen not nearly as trained and pronounced as Shiro’s, but enough that his figure is far from boyish. There is undeniable physicality in his body, but at the same time an elegance that Shiro cannot tear his eyes away from. Most alluringly of all, Lance’s cock rests aroused at the bottom of his torso, beneath a covering of short, dense hair. Shiro reaches for it, and finds it produces a beautiful whine from Lance when he wraps his hand around its girth and strokes.

“Oil,” Lance begins, flushed with arousal, “there’s oil on the table there.” 

Shiro hurries to grab it and Lance sits up on his forearms, breathing heavily.

“I prepared myself for you,” he says. “Shiro, please, I want you to take me.”

Pure arousal grips at Shiro’s insides, curling in his gut and making his cock pulse.

“Lance,” he says in a strained voice. “You can’t say such things so easily, I’ll never last.”

He slicks his fingers with the oil before climbing back over Lance, and lifting one of his legs over his shoulder. Two gentle fingers massage along his rim, slowly, steadily. Lance is already biting his lip and sighing heavily before Shiro even pushes a finger in, and then he’s urging Shiro forward, moving his hips around as it feels right.

Shiro watches with amazement.

“You’re… beautiful,” he says and Lance doesn’t answer but with a moan.

“Shiro, I’m ready just do it, please, or I’ll spill before you’ve even properly spread me,” he replies.

Shiro eases his fingers out obediently and slicks the length of his cock with haste.

He hoists Lance’s other leg over his shoulder and takes a moment, as his cock head is pressed to Lance’s entrance, to take in the sight before him. Lance, face flushed, looking down at the spot where they are about to be joined with his mouth agape from the breaths that heave his sweat-glistened chest up and down… Shiro’s chest grips with admiration, with affection, and lower than that… with burning hot desire. He’s never felt this aroused before in his life.

Lance calls his name again in reminder and Shiro looks back down to watch as he presses the tip of his cock inside. It’s tight and warm, and amazingly welcoming, as if they were meant to fit together, and Lance has no trouble accepting all of him in one smooth motion.

“Ah-h…” Lance’s head falls back against the bed and there’s a wild sort of smile on his face. Shiro halts himself, gearing up to last as long as he needs to in order to see Lance through climax, but god help him does his cock scream to seek its own selfish pleasure.

“Lance…” Shiro mutters and begins to move. He hovers over Lance’s torso and is pulled in closer yet by Lance’s clinging arms, their bodies all but pressed together. “Lance,” he repeats again and grabs his lips in a searing kiss. He thinks to himself that if they should ever do this again, he’d prefer no other position than this which allows him to feel every inch of Lance, every twitch of his thighs and twist of his torso, every pull from his hands that grab at Shiro’s back, though he’d certainly find any maneuver of their bodies pleasurable.

Not an hour before this moment Shiro counted himself lucky to be the king’s friend, and now he can hardly believe that the same unbelievable reality had grown into so much more. He doesn’t know what he did to find himself fallen into bed with Lance. He remembers the first time he ever met Lance, and every stroll they’d taken through the castle together since, every sweet treat they’d stolen from the kitchens at night, and every time Lance had ever smiled from something he’d said. Somehow, all of it led to now.

Lance is loud as Shiro ravishes him, something Shiro would find unsurprising if he had the capacity to think of anything other than the physical pleasure of their bodies moving together. Even as they kiss, Lance moans softly, beautifully, and the muffled sound of it has him driving forward into Lance even harder. Lance cries out in pleasurewhen their mouths 

He can feel the tension of orgasm ready to spring, but he wills it away, taking pause only to adjust Lance’s legs upon his shoulders. Lance’s body shudders at the change in angle, and Shiro takes note of the way his breath starts to hitch at every dive of his cock down to its hilt. The hands on his back tug at his skin and then Lance is crying out louder than before. Shiro watches in admiration as Lance’s expression tightens with his orgasm, and a final rough gasp escapes him as his cock shoots streams of seed upon both of them.

Finally, Shiro allows himself to follow suit, and an unparalleled pleasure courses through him. He moves through his orgasm with slow, lazy motions, panting and watching Lance’s chest heave in his own afterglow. A stream of cum gushes out of Lance as Shiro pulls his cock out and somehow, after everything they just did, the sight of it embarrasses him.

He looks back up at Lance and their eyes meet, a smile forming on Lance’s face.

“This is a good look for you,” he says, sliding a hand down Shiro’s muscled chest.

Shiro scoffs out a laugh.

“I was thinking the same of you.”

He climbs off Lance and the two of them sit up together.

“I… apologize for making a mess,” Shiro says.

“I don’t care about the mess,” Lance responds and leans his weight against Shiro. “You are very attractive when you’re making a mess out of someone.”

Shiro flushes.

Lance falls back to the bed, resting on his side and Shiro follows him.

“I think I’ve already grown addicted to falling into bed with you,” Lance says as he snuggles close to Shiro.

“Would you like to do it again?”

Lance smiles.

“I need a minute, but yes.” 

“I’m going to need longer than a minute,” Shiro laughs.

“Take your minutes then, I’m keeping you all night,” Lance says and pushes Shiro back down on the bed, holding his arms down and looming over him.

“How barbaric that his majesty is holding someone captive,” Shiro jokes. “Is it within the realm of pillow talk to ask about your opinion on prisoner treatment?

“I don’t think this particular prisoner minds very much,” Lance replies with a smirk. 

“He doesn’t.” Shiro agrees.


End file.
